


Of Babies and Bullets

by Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell



Series: There's A Hole In My Soul [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:30:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13763196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell/pseuds/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell
Summary: A short little drabble featuring my Sole Survivor, Delaney Pendleton, and her favorite merc, RJ MacCready.





	Of Babies and Bullets

He didn't know what it was that roused him from his sleep. It could've been the sun, but it was barely up over the trees in the distance, painting the early morning sky with firy light. It coud've been the radio on the nightstand, but sound was just barely emitting from the speaker, Travis' shaky voice twittering over the radio waves. If it wasn't any of those things, it must be the absence of the warm body he's gotten so used to feeling beside him in bed.

Robert Joseph MacCready sits up to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, yawning a little and rubbing his eyes in the process. His eyes adjust to the dim lantern light of the room. He can see the dresser outlined against the empty window frames and the crib in the corner of the room, void of any occupants. 

MacCready's muscles tense, the absence of other life in the room panicking him to say the least. He stands, not bothering to stretch the muscles in his back, and heads out into the hall. He pokes his head into the room across the way to see Duncan and Shaun still asleep in their beds. Relieved that at least two of the people he cares about is still here, MacCready turns on his heel and heads to the living room/kitchen/dining room. At this hour of the morning, the only light in the room is what's produced by the various lantern and candle combos scattered about on the counter, coffee tables, and other furniture. 

Someone shifts on the couch and MacCready stiffens, ready to defend himself if necessary. But, defense is not needed. 

Delaney's steel colored eyes train on him, shining in the candlelight from the bureau. She smiles a little, adjusting the bundle in her arms. "Good morning, Mac," She says softly. "What're you doing up so early?"

He relaxes a little. Since the day she waltzed into the Third Rail with a 10mm on her hip and a sniper rifle on her back, she's called him 'Mac', despite his obvious irritation over it. After they admitted their feelings for each other, however, he developed a fondness for the nickname. 

"Well... I... Just couldn't sleep. Everything okay?" He moves across the room to sit down beside her, leaning over near her. 

"Mm-hm. His sleep schedule's just changed a little," Delaney responds, a hint of exhaustion in her voice. "Didn't want to wake you up."

MacCready's eyes track to the napping baby in her arms, swaddled warmly in brahmin and radstag hide blankets. Slipping his arm around Delaney's shoulders and bringing the other up to wrap around the baby alongside hers, MacCready remembers the day they first learned of the little one, spacing out as he gazes softly at the baby's tiny features.  
It wasn't too long after they'd returned from retrieving Duncan from the Capital Wasteland that Delaney began to feel ill, particularly in the morning after waking up. Blaming it on radiation poisoning, she regularly used Radaways after breakfast to try and lessen the effects of it, but nothing changed. After a week or so of it, MacCready insisted that she see a doctor. Stubborn as she is, Delaney agreed and they left Duncan and Shaun in care of Preston Garvey and Danse while they traveled to Old North Church. As ornery as he is, she trusts Doctor Carrington more than anyone else. The same can be said for Knight-Captain Cade, but she wished to keep whatever ailed her a secret from the Brotherhood because of their infamous overdramatic reponses to EVERYTHING. 

When her blood tests were finally completed, Carrington concluded that she did indeed suffer from a life-changing affliction... but it wasn't anything that wouldn't clear up in nine months. And nine months later it did. Enter Baby Nathan Pendleton-MacCready. 

Now, weeks after his birth, they've fallen into a semi-solid routine. Nathan ('Nate' for short) woke up at 8 o'clock on the dot every day, ready to be fed. At this time, both Delaney and MacCready were usually up and already starting their daily chores so it was no problem... Up until now. Here it is, just around 6 o'clock in the morning, and they're all tired.

Returning to the moment, MacCready looks at Delaney whose dozed off on his shoulder, her warm breathing rythmically blowing across his collar bone. He smiles and shifts a little to lean against the couch arm, reclining both mother and baby into a more comfortable position. Not tired himself anymore, he looks out the window to see the sun beginning to peek over the tree tops and houses surrounding them and the very few early-rising settlers emerging from their doorways to begin the day.

A sliver of sunlight catches something shining on the window sill. Squinting, he can see the outline of a vase of hubflowers. That wasn't there before. Around the neck of the vase hang of pair of dogtags. Nate Pendleton's dogtags. Next to the vase sits a little carven soldier. The one Lucy made for him.

He stares at the small shrine for a moment, warmth stirring in his chest and stomach, before he looks down at the new life in his arms: Delaney and Nate. Then he looks down the hall, picturing his son and the boy he considered his own playing with old toy cars, racing them the length of the ruined tile floor.

For once, the mercenary feels like nothing can take what he has now away from him. He feels proctected and cared for. He feels... something he hasn't felt in a long time. Hope.


End file.
